Broken Top

by Will Simpson
Three Sister Wilderness, Oregon. How much silence do we need? Starting from silence, we develop the ability to hear sounds in the warmth of the womb. Only a few sounds are present in this living environment; the heart beating, blood being circulated, faint murmurings of conversations, and mom’s rhythmic breathing.

When hearing starts and the sounds of the world get turned on. Then we’re birthed into a life filled with a cacophony of noise.

While living in Bend, Oregon, I sought asylum in the Three Sisters Wilderness at every opportunity. Exceptionally bright in memory is a time when climbing the ridge that leads to the constellations of broken peaks named Broken Top.

It was cold, and as darkness approached, near timberline, a few weather-worn Mountain Hemlocks protected an alcove on the ridge that became my campsite. The campsite consisted of a ground tarp held down with rocks, a warm sleeping bag, and a few rocks large enough to sit on and use as a platform for cooking. The geologically ragged remains of Broken Top loomed behind the curtain of trees that were shielding me from the icy wind.

Behind the small group of Mountain Hemlock and out of sight from my camp, I could hear her silence. It was like anxiously anticipating the awaking of a sleeping giant. She last erupted about 100,000 years ago and might sleep with her volcano dreams for another 100,000 years.

Simon Aeberhard, in “Writing the Ephemeral,” said, “Falling silent or even the possibility of sudden silence is filled with meaning …”. Slowly, life grows quieter and fills with significance. This possibility of you falling silent to the world is always in front of you. A promise that will one day be actualized.